


With or Without You

by insideyourams



Category: Florence + the Machine
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-20
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2017-12-09 01:13:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/768258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insideyourams/pseuds/insideyourams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Florabella multi-chapter fanfic in which Flo's relationship with Isa is explored, with particular emphasis on the recent trips from LA to England, as they now live in separate countries. Based on the song With or Without You by U2. Listening to it while reading this would probably make for an effective experience. These are real people, but the work is entirely fictional. I own nothing, obviously. This is going to be a bit angsty, but I expect to offset some of that with some nice love scenes. *cough* Rating it Teen for now, but that's probably going to change. xx</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Heartlines

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is short and angsty, but you can bet the next one will be extra... steamy. (Rating will probably change with next chapter.) xx

It was a Wednesday afternoon, and Florence and Isabella were sitting on the couch in Flo’s new living room. It was a cheery area, filled with books and flowers. They had just finished having lunch. 

Isabella let out a long sigh before turning her head slightly to glance at Florence. “Well, Flo… I’ve had a really good time. But I should probably start getting my stuff together.” She had a plane to catch later that night. They both knew it. But they both dreaded it.

Florence sighed suddenly, tugging at the corner of her flowery blouse. She stood up, walking over to the other side of the room, her back to her guest.

“Flo? What are you doing?” asked Isa, raising an eyebrow, laughing slightly.

“Just thinking… I just wanted to tell you something.” Said Flo, turning to face the blonde.

“Okay?” said Isa, crossing her legs and leaning back, her arm stretching out over the back of the striped couch.

“Well.. erm, I think.. I think we need to get back in the studio.” Flo’s face was intent. She brought a pale hand to her lips and began biting one of her newly shortened nails, her eyes darting around the room.

“What?”

“Well, I mean, we can’t wait, really. I’m already starting to feel inspired again and-“

“But, Flo, you.. I thought you…” Isa trailed off, rising to her feet, confusion swimming in her wide blue-green eyes.

“…What?” questioned Florence, feigning innocence, her eyebrows perking up.

“You said you wanted to take a year off.” Isabella stated, her hands coming to rest on her hips.   
Florence shifted her weight between her feet, her hand falling to her side.  
“Well, yes, but really what I meant was that I wanted to take a year off from touring and things, you know, so that I could settle into my new house and everything…”

“It’s hardly been a year.” Silence followed Isa’s sharp response as the pair intently staring into one another’s eyes. 

The redhead was the first to speak, and her tone was slightly aggressive.  
“God, Isa. You sound like you never want to come back.”

“Florence, you know that’s not it. I’m just wondering… why the sudden rush?” The blonde had used Florence’s full name, and it made the conversation feel more formal than Florence wanted it to.

“It’s not a rush…” sighed Florence, clearly exasperated. She put a hand to her forehead and closed her eyes for a moment. “Look, I just…” But she couldn’t finish. She just looked at the Isa, her words mixing and mingling in her brain, refusing to budge. 

Isabella’s heart was beating so quickly. She was just waiting. She was waiting for it. She didn’t know if she would hear what she longed to hear, but she could only hope. “What?” she persisted, brushing a stray blonde strand of hair from her brow.

Florence swallowed, feeling the tears sting the corners of her green eyes. “It’s just that we don’t need to stop for.. for too long, you know. Because we can’t… we just…” Tears were falling freely now, and Isa was moving closer to the redhead, tears forming in her own eyes. “We have to stay… stay together because we… I can’t… I can’t be without…”

Isabella cupped Florence’s face in her hands, her thumbs stroking her bottom lip. Florence’s eyes drifted closed and she sighed shakily. “I can’t… be without you.” She whispered, finally.  
In one swift motion, Isa pulled Flo’s lips to her own, and before either of them knew what was happening, they were up against the wall, hands roaming frantically, sighs mingling, moans humming in unison.


	2. What the Water Gave Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Florence and Isabella take advantage of Flo's bathtub...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, okay, this is practically all smut. So, um, yeah, you were warned or whatever. *blushes* *hides in corner* oh, and also, sorry it's so short. there will be more where this came from. obviously. xx

“Oh.. oh.. _yes_..” Florence’s melodic moans echoed around the large bathroom, bouncing off the blue tiles. The redhead’s closed eyes darted around behind her lids. Her long, thin hands gripped either side of the bathtub, her knuckles turning white. “Ah… Isa… _Isa_ …” Her head fell limply back, her bare chest heaving with every breath. Her quivering lips parted in a gasp as she came, hard, shuddering with every wave of pleasure, soapy bathwater spilling over the edges and onto the floor. As it began, Isa replaced her mouth with her hand, her head emerging from the water, but her fingers still doing their magic, as Flo’s orgasm went on and on. Florence, unable to form coherent words or thoughts, wrapped her long arms around Isa, pulling her into a tight, skin-on-skin embrace so that the blonde’s face lay on her glistening chest, her hot breath escaping in soft pants.

 

As she listened to her companion’s heart rate slowly return to normal, Isa couldn’t help but wonder if this time would be any different from the last time. Would it just be sex with no commitment? Fun between friends? She felt Florence bury her fingers in her hair. “Mmm…” she moaned, satisfied. Isa swallowed, her eyes open and staring. She had just made love to the love of her life, but Isa had a feeling that Flo, on the other hand, had merely fucked her friend. Again.

 

“Isa?” Flo’s voice pulled Isa from her clouded thoughts. “Are you all right?” Flo’s voice seemed so soft, so shy, compared to her earlier cries of passion. Isa felt her gently splash a handful of warm water onto her, rubbing her gently, making little circles on her back.

 

Isa blinked slowly, forcing a smile as she looked up to meet Florence’s green-eyed gaze. “Of course,” she whispered, drawing her hand along her companion’s perfectly crafted jawline, “I was just thinking.”

 

Florence’s eyes wandered over Isa’s face, and Isa swore Flo could see right through her. She had that look sometimes. But then the most beautiful smile broke across her face, and Isa released the breath she’d been holding. Brushing a blonde strand from Isa’s forehead, Florence chimed, “Well you think too much.”

 

Later after they had gotten dressed, Florence put her plans into action. She had convinced Isa that missing the flight wouldn’t matter; she would arrange another flight, for the both of them. After all, Isa had to go back to L.A. to get packed if they were going to take a trip to Jamaica…


	3. Lover to Lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a flashback to 2011, during the recording/writing of Ceremonials, Isa comforts a discontent Florence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's short, but bear with me. There's more to come. There's a lot I want to do with this story, looking at the entire span of Isa's and Flo's relationship, and a lot of it is going to occur in flashbacks and alternate between the past and the present. x

_*flashback: circa May of 2011*_

"Love, what's wrong?"  
  
"Stuart and I had a fight again."

  
Florence was curled up in a ball in the back of the studio. Everyone else had gone to lunch, but Flo had opted to stay behind. Isa was the first one back. It was just the two of them.

  
She knelt down beside her best friend, draping an arm around her, using her other hand to brush Florence's bangs away from her face which, Isa now noticed, was damp with tears.

  
"Darling, I'm sorry." Isa hugged her tighter now, and Flo bit her lip to stifle a weak sob. She clung to her friend instead.

  
"I just don't understand... I thought I loved him. But he just makes me feel.. terrible about myself." Flo's voice was so small. Isa's heart ached for Florence, always a lion in song, forever a kitten in spoken words.

  
She ran her fingers through her companion's red hair, rubbing her back with her other hand. Florence's breathing was evening out, but her last spoken words lingered in the air. After a few moments, Isa spoke. "Flo, if... If he makes you feel so bad... Why are you with him?"

  
Florence pulled back then, sniffing, wiping her face, her eyes focused blearily on a wall behind Isa. She thought for a long time. "Because I still love him." she sighed, a sad smile crossing her face, a bitter laugh escaping her mouth, turning into a weary sob. More tears fell then, and Isa, whose heart dropped at her friend's admission, caught them all with her fingertips. She pulled Florence to her again, cradling her like a child.

  
They leaned back against the wall, staying that way for what seemed like an eternity. Florence's breathing had returned to normal, and Isa looked down to see the redhead sleeping soundly in her arms. Tears pricked at her blue eyes. She felt for her phone and, trying to make as little noise as possible, texted Rob:

  
_Take an extra long lunch, I think Flo needs to be alone for a while. X_

  
She looked down at the woman in her arms, memorizing the contours of her face, relaxed and peaceful in sleep. The sight took Isabella's breath away.


	4. The Crashes Are Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An overview of the significant happenings in Jamaica.

 

Jamaica proved to be a relaxing trip... for the most part. Isabella and Florence shared a room, exchanged kisses in public, held hands. They might as well have been a couple. But they weren’t.

 

Isa was at the piano, her fingers skipping across the keys, finding different chord combinations. A large pair of headphones rested on her ears. Florence came up beside her, leaning gently against the wall, watching the blonde play. She pulled out her phone idly, scrolling through various tweets and instagram photos. Isa stopped and pulled out her own phone, snapping a random picture of herself, smiling with Florence in the background.

 

Flo gasped, “Wait, what are you doing?!”   
  
“I just took a picture.”  
  
“Isa… I look terrible.”  
  
Isa stood then, taking Florence’s face in her hands, standing on tiptoes to give her a quick kiss on the lips. “You’re beautiful. Look.” she held the picture up, and Florence squinted at it, her face unconvinced. She finally sighed.  
  
“Okay.” Her eyes softened, and she let a smile dance across her mouth.

 

~

 

“You’ve got to stop fidgeting.”

“I’m sorry… You know that’s hard for me!”

“I know, but if we don’t get this on you, you’re going to burn…”

“It’s so cold!”  
  
“I know, just _hang on_..”

 

Isabella was spreading sunscreen over Florence’s pale skin. She was wearing her black bikini, sitting on a stool in front of the edge of their queen-size bed, on the edge of which Isa was perched. Isa was trying to cover every inch of exposed skin. She was starting with her back, and Florence was already being uncooperative. But Isa found it unbelievably adorable.

 

“You’re next, you know.” chided Florence, throwing a glance over her shoulder.  
  
“Oh, no, I’m not. I don’t swim, remember?”   
  
“Doesn’t matter, you’re going to be in the sun…” Florence reached back and let her hand slide over Isabella’s thigh, exposed by a short pair of shorts. Isabella’s heart skipped a beat.

“Quit, you’re distracting me.”

 

Florence’s long red hair was tucked up into a red cap, and since Florence’s back was to Isa, she couldn’t see the smirk that inadvertently spread across her face as she said, “Okay, now I need to get the rest of you.” Florence fidgeted slightly again. Isa squeezed some more of the white lotion into the palm of her hand, rubbing her hands together. She bit her lip as she reached around, letting her slick hands glide across Florence’s chest and neck. She could feel the redhead’s heartbeat, feel her breathing as it quickened slightly. Flo’s head lulled back slightly, exposing more of her neck, her eyes drifting closed. Isa let her hands wander to Florence’s abdomen, rubbing, massaging the sunscreen into her skin. Florence’s back straightened slightly, a little moan escaping her mouth. Isabella felt breathless now as well, and leaned forward, her chest pushing up against Florence’s back. Florence’s leaned back farther, little pants escaping her lips now, letting her head fall back on Isa’s shoulder. Finally, Florence couldn’t take it anymore. She jerked around, grabbing Isa’s face, pushing her back roughly on the bed, her lips crashing against Isa’s. Suffices to say, the swim and sunbathing was postponed by a few hours.

 

~

 

“Let’s take pictures together…” murmured Isa one evening, her lips against Florence’s cheek. They were sitting in the main room of the building they were staying in. There was a movie on the large television in the center of the room, and most of the band members were watching it, but Florence and Isabella were too busy with each other to pay much attention.  
  
  
Florence smiled, tugging at the blanket they were sharing so that it would keep them both covered. She fiddled with the collar of her silk pajamas, but Isa laughed lightly, stopping her hand, pulling it to her lips, kissing the redhead’s fingertips. A blush rose in Florence’s cheeks. But then she sighed, her smile faltering. “Let’s just sit here instead.” Her words hung in the air, and Isa’s heart sank a little. To avoid an argument, she consented, laying her head on her companion’s shoulder. Florence put an arm around her, running her fingers through her long, blonde hair.

 

 


	5. Are You Hurting the One You Love?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback to 2009, around the time Lungs was being recorded. Stuart and Florence fight. Isabella takes up for her but doesn't get the response from Florence she was expecting.

 

*flashback to 2009*

 

“What do you want from me?!”

“I want more time with you! It’s not the same now, Florence. God, you don’t even belong to me anymore. It’s like you’re just… up for grabs!”

“Excuse me? I never _belonged_ to you! I’m not your fucking _property_!”

 

Their voices could be heard throughout the little studio, and the band was trying not to listen. Stuart and Florence were in the midst of a heated argument in a back room. It wasn’t the first.

 

Isabella was absently playing chords on her keyboard, biting her lip, trying to ignore the yelling. But finally, she couldn’t take it anymore, and she stood abruptly, heading for the door at the back.

 

“Isa, don’t…” pleaded Rob, before leaning back over an amp, turning a knob, trying to find the right sound. She shot a look over her shoulder at him and kept going. But she stopped at the door, her head down, her expression neutral, listening.

 

“Fuck, I can’t do this, Stuart. My band is waiting. I’m trying to work.” “Oh, sure. Why not? That’s all you fucking do is work. And if you’re not working you’re drunk.”

“Stuart…” Florence’s voice was weary, quieter, and Isa’s hands began to tremble.

“No, don’t ‘Stuart’ me! You drink _all_ the fucking time. And when you’re drunk, you don’t give a fuck who you kiss, who you make out with, who you _fuck_ -”

 

The door flew open.

 

Stuart stopped abruptly. He was standing over Florence, who was sitting on a worn, brown leather couch. His fists were clenched, his face bright red. His icy eyes darted to the doorway, and his mouth closed, sighing hard. Florence’s face was wet with tears, and when she saw Isa, her face fell into her hands.

 

“You need to leave.” Isabella’s voice was small, but her tone was stern.

 

“This is none of your business.” snapped Stuart, turning sharply to face her.

 

Isabella took a few steps towards him, her voice increasing in volume. “You need to fucking _leave_.”

 

Florence stood then, by her friend’s side in an instant. “Isa, it’s okay.” She placed her long hands on Isa’s shoulders, facing her, trying to turn her around and guide her back to the door, but Isa wouldn’t budge, her wide eyes locked furiously on Stuart.

 

Stuart returned her glare through half-closed lids, his jaw clenching. He then looked back to the doorway, where Rob had appeared, his arms crossed, a defensive scowl on his face.

 

He left then, finally, sweeping past Flo and Isa, side-stepping Rob. They heard the slam of the studio door as he marched off into the night. Florence blinked and a few unshed tears finally escaped, trailing down her cheeks. Isa reached up to catch them but, to Isa’s shock, Florence pushed her hand away, her green eyes shooting daggers. Isabella felt the blood drain from her face, her heart dropping.

 

“Rob, will you tell Tom and Chris we’re done? I can’t do anymore tonight.” Florence’s voice was soft, meek. Rob nodded, disappearing into the main room. Isa turned to follow him.

 

“Wait. I need to talk to you.” Florence’s voice was suddenly sharp. The blonde froze, turning around slowly, a sigh escaping her lips.

 

They stared at each other, Isa’s eyes blank, Flo’s bright with irritation. They waited to speak again until they heard studio door close for the last time, the echoes of absent-minded conversation between the other band members fading into the distance.

 

Florence’s arms were crossed, her jaw jutted out in frustration. “What did you think you were doing?”

 

The words stung Isa. “He was hurting you, Florence.” she replied, an edge growing in her voice.

 

“He didn’t lay a hand on me!”

“His words-”

“You had no right to listen to us!”

“It was impossible not to! The whole fucking studio could hear it!”

 

Florence’s face was red now. They had stepped closer to one another, a mere foot or two apart. Flo’s eyebrows knitted together as she thought, trying to figure out how to respond. Her lips mouthed wordlessly for a moment, her eyes blinking nervously, tears forming in them again. Isa could feel her own tears building, and her voice softened as she murmured, “What he was saying… It was bullshit. He had no right-”

 

She reached up to touch Flo’s forearms, but that’s when Flo jerked away from her, snapping, “ _You_ had no right! Fuck, he _was_ right. It was none of your fucking business!”

 

Isa was angry too now, and the words were coming out before she could think twice about them. “You know what? Fine. Fucking _fine_. I was just trying to help, Flo!”

“Well next time, don’t.” hissed Florence then, her eyes darkening, turning her back on the blonde. Isa felt herself shaking all over. Before she knew what was happening, she was moving toward the redhead.

“I fucking care about you!” she exclaimed, grabbing Florence’s elbow to turn her around, but she pulled her arm from her grasp once again.

“Don’t push me away!” Isa’s voice was almost shrill now as she continued toward Flo, reaching out and grabbing her arms. “I fucking _love_ you!” Her voice was so angry and strained through her tears. Florence was silent, still trying to fight her touch. “Stop it! Listen to me!” Before she knew it, she had pushed Florence up against the far wall.

 

Isa and Flo stood, Flo’s back against the wall, each woman grasping a handful of the other’s shirt, breathing heavily, tears streaming down their faces. “I love you, Flo. I fucking… love you.” Isa choked out, her sobs small and weak. Flo leaned forward, dropping her face so that their foreheads were touching.

 

Their lips were inches apart. They might as well have been a single body, their breaths mingling, their tears mixing. “I _know_ … Fuck… I know.” Florence whispered, through clenched teeth. Her voice was still tinged with frustration, anger even.

 

Isa felt something growing inside of her then, her courage building. She couldn’t take it any longer. She couldn’t restrain herself. She grabbed Flo’s face, closing the gap between them, mashing their lips together. At first, Flo moaned in protest, her head hitting the wall as she futilely attempted to resist. But then Flo’s shaky hands made their way to Isa’s face, and they clung to each other, pulling at one another, like they couldn’t get close enough, mouths frantically opening and closing against each other. Isa pushed Flo harder against the wall, and the two of them slid to the ground in a crumpled heap. Their moans echoed through the dusty room, the light from the lamp in the corner casting shadows across the floorboards.

 


	6. A Rabbit-Hearted Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Florence and Isa attempt to talk about their relationship.

 

 

“Why does this h-have to be so hard?”

 

“Shh… it’s going to be okay, I promise.”

 

“I-I just can’t keep sleeping alone. I can’t keep sleeping without you. I-”

 

“You can do it, darling. You’ve been doing it for months now.”

 

“No… no… I don’t want to!”

 

Florence and Isabella were curled up in Flo’s big queen-sized bed. Since Jamaica, they had been playing a seemingly never-ending game of never-be-apart-for-any-length-of-time-even-if-we-live-on-different-continents. If Florence wasn’t in L.A. with Isabella, Isabella was in London with Florence. Isa had gotten very little work done in California, which was precisely the reason she moved there… besides putting some necessary distance between she and Flo, regardless of how hard that decision had been.

 

The redhead was lying naked in the blonde’s arms. Isabella had risen early and gotten dressed, and when Florence woke up, she almost immediately disintegrated into tears. She had coaxed Isa back into bed, pulling the sheet and duvet gently over the both of them, clinging to her companion with trembling arms and shaky breaths.

 

This had become a pattern with Florence. Whenever they had to part, she would be inconsolably devastated, and it was for this reason that they would almost immediately see each other again in a matter of weeks. Isabella didn’t have this strong of a reaction. Being in L.A., she was finally feeling like she could breathe again. Being away from Florence pained her terribly, but she was done with making herself look vulnerable. She would wait and cry back in America.

 

Thinking of this, she hugged Florence tighter, letting her eyes wander down to the beauty in her arms. Flo was nestled into Isa’s chest, her hair messy from sleep, her eyes red and puffy from crying. She looked most mournful, and Isabella almost felt a pang of guilt. Almost.

 

“Well I’m sorry. I need to finish getting packed.”

 

Clearing her throat, she gently disentangled herself from the crying girl in bed, moving across the room and bending to pick up a pair of shoes and drop them neatly into her suitcase.

 

“Isa…” whined Florence.

 

Isa stayed silent though, continuing with her packing.

 

Florence was on her feet then, bringing the sheet with her, holding it up to her body as though to hide her nakedness from the one woman who knew her body the best.

 

“Isabella Summers. Stop!”

 

“What the fuck do you want from me, Flo?!” Isabella’s voice was louder than she had meant for it to be, and Florence flinched.

 

“I want to be with you.”

 

The words hung in the air like a mist. Isabella stood frozen, staring at Flo with her mouth slightly open. Florence couldn’t hold her gaze, her green eyes darting around the room, her breath still uneven from crying.

 

“You… so you want a real relationship? Finally?” Isa was stepping towards Florence slowly now, who was fidgeting with the sheet.

 

Her voice was shaky when she responded, hesitantly, “I didn’t… I just… I, erm… Look, I want to be with you, okay? I just-”

 

Isa stopped then, feeling the anger building in her throat. “Flo... Flo, what is this?”

 

Flo’s eyes were tearing up again now, her bottom lip quivering. “It’s our friendship, Isa. We.. we’ve always.. we’re best friends.. God, Iz.. you know that. I’ve always.. I need you, you’re..”

 

Normally, Isabella would have found Florence’s inability to finish a complete thought rather endearing, but in this moment, there was nothing sweet about it. She, too, was beginning to cry.

 

Isa was used to sitting by when Flo would go on her escapades. She sat by while the pictures surfaced and the trips were taken. She watched as Florence drunkenly kissed girl after girl, guy after guy.

 

Florence always treated Isabella like she was the one, the one who meant the most out of all her escapades. But it was never just Isa. Never just Florence and her machine. Always Florence and the world.

 

“Our friendship?”

 

“Yes. We’re friends.”

 

“That’s all I am to you.”

 

“Y-yes, you’re my best friend.”

 

“Best friends don’t fuck every night.”

 

The words slipped from Isa’s tongue before she could stop herself. Now there they were, naked, glaring, ugly. There was so much more to Florence than what she was willing to admit, so much more to her actions, her dreams, her words. They were best friends. They did share a love. With them, it was always making love. It was never just a fuck. Isabella knew this, but she had spoken too soon, and now she could never take it back.

 

Tears erupted from Florence’s eyes almost immediately, spilling over when she blinked, which she was now doing frantically. She bit her lip, her frame quivering from the sobs that she was attempting to stifle. She hung her head, and suddenly Florence was just the young girl in Isa’s studio again, the shy, shifty-eyed free spirit with a galaxy of ideas, brilliance beyond her years, illogical fears and enough self-loathing for a city. Isa’s heart fell apart.

 

She moved to Florence like gravity had brought her crashing back, and her arms were around her, under the sheet, holding her, wiping her face frantically, whispering her apologies over and over, planting kisses all over her face, her shoulders. Flo was just a blur of red hair and green eyes and pale skin through Isa’s blurred vision, tears cascading between them. But Isa felt like she had torn Flo apart with a single sentence, and now she was holding her as tightly as possible, trying desperately to put her back together, mend her broken bits.

 

They fell back into bed then, crying, clinging to one another, kissing every inch of one another’s exposed skin, their murmurs hovering in the air above them for hours. Isa’s suitcase was still open in the corner. It would stay there for another three days.


	7. She's Just Like the Weather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback in which Florence and Isabella meet for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the sake of this story, we're going to assume that Isa and Flo met when Florence was still a teenager. I know the actual story of how they met for the very first time is debatable and really unclear, so just go with it. Obviously fiction anyhow. xx

 

*flashback to mid-July of 2002*

 

“Isabella, this is Florence. Nick and Evelyn’s oldest daughter. Florence, this is Isabella.”

 

The girl was all thin, lanky limbs and long brown hair. Her eyes darted back and forth from Isabella to Isabella’s father, the ghost of a smile on her thin lips. She batted her fringe away from her eyes with the hand that wasn’t on her hip. Her head was cocked to the side slightly, her jaws rhythmically chewing her gum. She was wearing a plaid skirt that almost reached her knees and a button-up shirt with rolled up sleeves.

 

“Isa, hi. Call me Flo. I’m not good with… Florence is such a… a long name.” The girl laughed then, seemingly at herself, wringing her hands, playing with her hair again. She must have been about fifteen.

 

Isabella stuck her hands in her pockets, murmuring, “Okay.” She laughed lightly, looking at the ground, rocking back on her heels and forward on her toes.

 

The Summers’ and the Welch’s had been friends for ages, but Isabella had never had the chance to tag along with her parents on one of their visits. But today was the yearly holiday, a big gathering of friends in South London, and Isabella just happened to be around at the right time and had nothing better to do than join in.

 

“You know, I’ve seen you before.”

 

The girl’s words caught Isabella by surprise. They were sitting at tables outside Florence’s mother’s house. Most of the older visitors had already finished eating, but Isa was still sipping her mixed drink when Florence came up and dropped heavily into the seat across from her, a glass in one hand and a half-empty bottle of vodka in the other.

 

The girl’s eyes weren’t shifty now. They were green and wide and staring, and Isabella found it slightly off-putting.

 

Unable to escape the teenager's gaze, she sat her elbow on the table, letting her head fall into her palm, tapping the nails of her other hand against the wood of the table. “Oh, really?”

 

“Yes. Haven’t you got a studio ‘round here somewhere?”

 

“Yes, I have actually. Not much of a place, really. But I’ve got some equipment, yeah.”

 

A slight pause followed, Florence taking another long drink from her glass. Isabella cleared her throat slightly, chuckling. “Erm.. aren’t you a little young to be drinking like that?”

 

Florence let out a huff of annoyanace. “Are you kidding me? I’ll be sixteen in August… How old are _you_?”

 

Isabella hesitated then, feeling her face redden slightly. Florence took another drink as Isa quietly replied, “I’ll be twenty-two in October.”

 

Florence looked as though she might spit out her drink then, one of her long hands coming to her mouth, her eyes squeezed shut as she swallowed with difficulty. “Get out.” she said finally, her laughter dancing through the air like music. Isa smiled slightly, embarrassed.

 

“No, I’m serious.”

 

“Oh my God, but you’re like… You’re _tiny_ though.”

 

She was on her feet then, running around to Isa’s side of the table, seizing her hand, pulling her hard to her feet. “I mean, look. Fucking _look_.” she laughed, steadying Isa’s shoulders so that they were standing face to face. She compared their height difference with ever-increasing amusement.

 

“Okay. I get it.” sighed Isa, smiling in spite of herself, her eyes dropping to the ground.

 

“Hang on…” Flo’s voice was softer then, and Isa’s breath hitched when she felt the teenager’s fingers under her chin, tilting her face upward.

 

“Oh my God.” Florence’s voice was almost a whisper now. The shadow of a laugh still on her lips in the form of a dizzy grin.

 

“I… what?”

 

“Your eyes. You have… You have great eyes. I mean, you should… That’s amazing. And you’d look great as a blonde.” She tugged at a few strands of Isa’s brown hair then, smiling fully again, bearing a straight set of white teeth.

 

Isa was slightly unsettled by the compliments, but she gracefully accepted them, blinking slowly, “Erm… thank you.”

 

“Flo! Come on! We’re gonna be late!” A voice in the distance was calling. It was a girl who looked about Flo’s age.

 

“Oh, right. _Right_ , Sophie, I’m _coming_!” called Florence then, over her shoulder, laughing slightly. She faced Isa then, stepping back, stumbling but regaining her balance at the last minute. “It was, erm… It was actually great to meet you. Have a nice night! I’ll… I’ll see you around.”

 

“Yes! Okay. Bye then.” said Isa, feeling an inexplicable sense of disappointment at her new friend’s departure. She watched the girl leave then, disappearing into the clear London night.

 

 


	8. Breaking Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Florence and Isabella have a heart-breaking conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written from Flo's POV, which is a first for this fic.

_June 2013_

 

I knew what was going to happen. I knew when she first asked me to take a walk with her. I knew it could only mean one thing.

 

I knew it wasn’t for the sake of romance. She may be the one who kept pushing for a “real relationship,” but I’m the romantic one. Isabella Summers doesn’t have a romantic bone in her body.

 

I want to be with her. I want to be with her in every fiber of my being. She knows that’s how I feel. But I can’t say it outright. I can’t broadcast it to the world. I’ve been down that road twice now, and it ended badly. I can’t go there again. She should know why. She should know me better than that.

 

I knew something was strange days ago. I knew it when she asked me to go with her to Aldeburgh in the first place. It wouldn’t have been strange at all except she was acting shifty. I don’t know how else to describe it. Isabella is remarkably straightforward, and it’s one of my favorite things about her. Very rarely does she behave otherwise, but when she’s feeling anxious about something, she gets shifty. She won’t look right at me, and she starts fidgeting, and it drives me up the wall because I _know_ what it means. It means she’s going to tear herself away. It means I’ll be empty. It means darkness.

 

Oh, sure, she tries to act like nothing. She makes a show of taking pictures of bugs and plants, and when we finally get to the beach, I can’t take it anymore.

 

“Why did you bring me here?”

 

My eyes are on the waves, and I hear the words coming out of my mouth, but I don’t feel as though I’ve actively conjured them. The whole thing feels like a scene in my head. I’m curled up in the corner of a room, knees to my chest, watching the screen, wringing my hands…

 

“I wanted to talk to you.”

 

She’s doing that thing with her voice, that thing where she tries to sound innocent. I turn and look at her, but it feels like it’s in slow motion. She’s looking up at me now, sunglasses perched on her head, eyebrows tilted. Finally some eye contact. I hold it for a moment.

 

“Come on,” she says then, her voice still light, and I go through the motions as she takes my hand and leads me a little farther down the beach, pulling me down when she finds a nice spot to sit.

 

“Look, Flo,” she sighs, laying her palms flat on the bit of sand behind her, kicks her heels off, trying to look relaxed, “Something’s… something’s gotta give, you know? I’m not trying to upset you, but we need to talk about things. This…” she motions between us wordlessly for a moment, “This thing, whatever it is, it isn’t working. Not for me.”

 

I stare at her feet. They have a lot of character for a pair of feet. I’ve always liked them, but they put up with a lot of shit. She only wears heels. That must hurt. They deal with so much, but they still look great. I’ve always admired that.

 

“It’s your turn to say something, Flo.”

 

I still can’t look at her, so I just watch those gorgeous feet. My voice is barely a murmur. “What is it with you and heels? We went for a walk, and you wore heels. Nobody wears fucking…” I start playing with a strangely shaped rock that’s lying between us, “…fucking _heels_ to take a walk…”

 

She exhales noisily, and I know she’s annoyed, but I can’t help it. I don’t want to face this. This is the last thing I want to face. I can’t see her walk away again.

 

“Will you just... fucking focus for once? I just want to talk about this. I want _us_ … to talk about this. That means you have to be a part of the conversation too.”

 

“You’re right,” I say, my eyes slowly moving closer to her face. I still can’t look at her just yet, so I look at her wrist. “I’m sorry.”

 

Isa always says that, when I don’t want to face something but am forced to do so anyway, I seize up and withdraw into myself. Then everything I do after that is just me on autopilot. She calls it robot-mode. I guess you could say it contributed to the nickname.

 

I clear my throat a little, pushing back my fringe, brushing the tip of my nose. Finally, I look up. God, her eyes are big. I get lost in them. I love that feeling, that rush I get just from looking into those eyes. I can see it there, in those orbs, the realization. She knows I’ve gone into robot-mode, but she doesn’t have the patience to fight with me about it right now. That can only mean one thing. She’s already made up her mind. And the _me_ inside, the girl in the corner of the room, watching helplessly, lets out a little sob.

 

I realize then that it’s still my turn to talk, and she’s waiting, with those big eyes.

 

“I… I think you’re right. I don’t think it’s working. I don’t think _we’re_ … working.”

 

The words are so bitter that I almost want to gag on them. The girl in my mind hides her face. But I keep my expression blank, my tone even. I even keep the tears from rolling in. I can do that in robot-mode. I’ll wait and turn on reality later, at home.

 

“I’m glad you agree at least,” she says, and she looks at the rock I fiddled with earlier. She’s gone shifty again, and I know that only means one thing. I stare at her blankly and wait, but the girl in my mind covers her head, anticipating the fatal blow.

 

“Florence, I think we should just… stop.”

 

I feel like I’ve been drenched in cold water. I don’t see the girl in my head anymore, just a vast expanse of… nothing.

 

“S-stop?” I manage, and I’m surprised the tears aren’t coming. But I feel numb, and I’m grateful. “Stop what exactly?”

 

“Stop… doing what we’ve been doing.” She finally looks back up, and her expression is remorseful. She takes my hand then, and where I would usually feel warmer, I feel instantly colder. “We’ve been friends for a long time. But whatever it is we’ve had since the end of this last tour… it’s messed us up, messed _me_ up. We can’t… sleep together anymore. And we can’t just keep visiting each other _all_ the time. I need some space.”

 

I find myself nodding, too quickly. I started nodding before she even finished her thought. And I’m looking out into the waves, and I start thinking about how big the ocean is. It’s so fucking huge, and it reminds me of the void I feel growing in my chest.

 

“No, I completely agree.” I’m looking at her now, raising my eyebrows slightly as I speak. That usually helps me look more natural. My voice doesn’t sound like mine to me now. Nothing feels like the right world. There’s a disturbance.

 

She looks doubtful though, and I know it’s because of robot-mode. So I try to be more convincing. “I’m serious, Isa.” I squeeze her hand a little. “I know this is what we need. I’ve been smothering you, and I’m sorry.” I see something dance across her face. Is it disappointment? Probably not. I’m sure she’s happy. Why wouldn’t she be? This is what she wants. I’ll wait to ease the knife out of my heart later tonight, maybe pour some vodka on it. But I can almost hear her in my head when I think about it. _You’re so fucking dramatic. Why does everything have to be a show?_

Real-life Isa is still looking at me quizzically, however. She finally nods as well, and suddenly she’s leaning in and hugging me, and I just limply follow suit, my arms going around her slowly. She doesn’t feel like the same person.

 

When she pulls back, she tries to lighten the mood. “It’s not like things are going to change with our friendship, Flo. We’re just going to go back to what we’ve always been.”

 

 _In love?_ I think. We’ve always been in love. But I nod slightly and smile a little, even laughing slightly. “Of course. We’ll still be there for each other.”

 

Just not holding hands or kissing or making each other come in all manner of ways. But I stare blankly still, my face fixed in an absently comfortable expression. I’ve never felt more lost.

 

“We’ll just be… like… buddies. Pals.” She says, laughing again, and I smirk.

 

“Yeah, pals. Cool pals.” I say.

 

The sun is about to set, and we start heading back. She asks to take a picture of me. I guess it’s her idea of what “just friends” do. I let her, even though I’m usually reluctant. But I don’t have the strength to resist. I just need to go along until I can get home, get in bed. Retreat. She captions it and posts it, and I chuckle when she shows me. She seems happy. I pray it’s just an act. I wish she felt just like I feel: empty, lost. But how could she? This was her idea.

 

We make small talk on our walk back to your car. I keep the act up. But every light inside me has gone out.


End file.
